Ascension
by I Have No Life At All
Summary: Can a person sent to Mu become a ghost? Was Light really halucinating at the end? Or could that figure he saw actually have been corporeal? Here, I extend the Biblical allusion from episode 25 in an attempt to answer these questions.
1. Chapter 1

L Lawliet was not afraid to die. This was good, because the longest his best estimate gave himself to live was five years. And that was with luck, accuracy, and possibly some divine intervention. For he had just approached the point of no return... and plummeted far, far over the edge.

**L Lawliet- Dies of Disease. Dies as a direct result of complications arisen from atherosclerosis.**

Thus read L's own paraoxical entry in the Death Note. It could save him, and it would definitely kill him. It could carry on his career, and it would end it. It could defeat his best friend and mortal enemy, but it would allow him to continue killing for several more years, at least. It would be his first personal experiment with a Death Note, and it had the potential to be his last big mistake. And the more positive of these options could happen only if L was in a particularly serendipitous state today.

L, or, more correctly, the Kira Investigation Team, had received this particular copy of Death Note after the Yotsuba incident, and he had since been studying it thoroughly. There were two rules which particularly intrigued him: the first, that any human who writes a name must continue writing names every thirteen days; and the second, that the Death Note could only operate within a twenty-three day timeframe. He was interested in the first rule because he had strong suspicions that it was false; he was interested in the second because he believed that he may have found a loophole.

L knew that some diseases could lie dormant in the body for a long period of time before taking full effect, but the twenty-three day rule would prevent such diseases from being options with which one person could kill another. Presumably, then, one would not be able to write "dies in four years" for any death, even one by one of the aforementioned diseases. But what if one wrote in one of the said diseases, and left out the time of death? Would the twenty-three day rule take effect, or wouldn't it? L had neither the desire nor the patience to test this on anyone else, and so he had decided to use it first (and last) on himself.

But of course, what use was a gamble this large, if Light just killed him tomorrow? L had also deduced, somewhat hopefully, that a name written in the Death Note would take effect, regardless of whether or not another had entered another entry later. So, in reality, L was hinging on two non-printed rules that he had nothing more than circumstantial evidence to support.

The prospect was grim: L calculated only a 27% probability that both aspects of this plan would work. But of course, a 27% chance of survival was still better than the 0% chance he would survive if Light discovered his name without these precautions. The only other person that L had told about this was Watari.

Watari was L's mentor, adoptive father, and role model in nearly every moral aspect of his existence. L felt stronger knowing that Watari had heard him out and supported his attempts, however desperate they may be. During this same meeting, L had told Watari to delete all of the data on his personal computer should anything happen to him. L had told him it was a precaution, so that the information on Kira would not fall into the wrong hands, should no one be there to protect it. If Watari had seen that this was a signal to L's rather low expectations for the success of this plan, then he didn't show it. For better or for worse.

In short, L was risking everything for this case. If it worked, it could bring the Kira case to a close withing a few short years. And on the other, hand, if it failed, it could very well be the end of many things.

The end of an era...

The end of justice as we know it...

And the end of over 2000 years of slow, agonizing progress made while striving towards a world ruled by the people as a whole. Of a world with democracy, with fair trials, and ideally, a world of peace.

No, L Lawliet was not afraid to die. He was simply afraid to let Kira live.


	2. Gospel

He had always loved the rain. It gave him a pleasant sensation of being detached from the rest of humanity. He enjoyed the feel of the tepid water washing over him as it carried away the world's impurities like it had been doing for hundreds of millions- no, _billions_- of years. When he was under the weight of so much water, that had seen so many years of the constant, cyclic progression which they had always and _would_ always carry out, his problems seemed infinitesimal in comparison.

But alas, his overstressed mind could not be allowed even this small reprieve for long. He saw Light standing off to his left, under the awning near the door. As always, he was especially conscious of his appearance, and attempted to start a conversation from across the rooftop, so as not to get himself wet. Sadly for Light, though, L enjoyed teasing him, and so he feigned an inability to hear his question over the drumming of the rain.

But Light was highly persistent– L wondered how anyone could care _that much_ about his appearance. Eventually, though, Light gave in and began walking over, rather daintily attempting to shield his face from the beating rain with a raised hand. It was rather strange to see the infamous Kira, the scourge of the Japanese police, the distributor of perverse justice to the world's criminals, and the bane and purpose of L's existence, afraid to get a little bit of water in his eyes.

L no longer knew what to think of this boy. A portion of his ambiguous mind wanted to bring him to justice, to see him finally pay for his crimes, and to see him exposed for the murderer he was– and another part of him wanted to help him get away, help him recover, and to have that good-natured boy who had been an integral part to the Yotsuba case back at his side. L very nearly laughed at himself- his personas were almost as opposed to eachother as Light's own were.

As Light approached, L noticed something that seemed slightly different about his friend's– his enemy's– Light's aura. It seemed to him as though Light was being more free with his movements, less careful about his manner– far more like the Light from the Yotsuba case than he had been for almost a week. The main noticeable difference between the two (and L would know best, considering he had been chained to him for that entire period) was that this Light seemed more somber– apologetic, almost. So then, tonight was the night he was to die, was it?

L briefly wondered if Light had ever read the Christian Bible, but quickly dismissed that thought as absurd. The image of the future Kira reading God's words on forgiveness, mercy for the damned, and love for all creatures just didn't seem to be at all plausible. Not to mention, if he had indeed read the Bible, L didn't think it would be very likely he would have used the Death Note in the first place. Since that was probably the case, L almost dismissed his own unbidden desire to reference the Gospel of John– after all, where was the fun in alluding to something the other person wouldn't understand. But then, L had always enjoyed knowing or understanding something others didn't– and so he decided to reference the passage anyway.

In this particular passage of the Gospel of John (passage number 13, portentously enough), Jesus senses his own death, and announces his intention to wash his disciples' feet. When he reaches Peter, whom Jesus has (wrongly) identified as the one to betray him, Peter requests that Jesus not wash his feet. Jesus insists, however, and so Peter asks Jesus to was the rest of him, as well. Jesus refuses, stating that not all of him is unclean. The famous passage was strangely apropos, especially considering that if L wasn't dead by tonight, then Light would hopefully think he was.

Over the course of the few seconds that L had been thinking this, Light had approached him and had repeated his inquiry, which was something along the lines of "what are you doing here?". L, not willing to let a perfectly good opportunity for a jibe pass up, said he was listening to the church bells. Now, of course, there were no church bells to be heard, and Light clearly took this as an insult– after all, L had made him walk all the way over here _in the rain_ because he couldn't hear him, and now he was hearing church bells? Light clearly missed the double entendre, which was as much as L had suspected.

But L wasn't done vexing Light yet. In what was intended to be a semblance of his usual ineptitude at continuing conversations, L asked the rather pretentious question of whether or not Light had ever told the whole, unadulterated truth in his life. In response to this unexpected question, Light threw out some half-truth about how people tried to always tell the truth, but inevitably had to lie sometimes, but that to be constantly lying was unheard of.

The irony was almost tangible as they headed back inside.

As the two men dried off, L began to execute the most ostentatiously gospel-related part of his plan. He offered to massage Light's feet in an apparent gesture of kindness. Light acquiesced, though not without some minor prodding, and so L proceeded to massage his feet.

During that solemn moment, L felt as though he was finally in the presence of Light, his friend, again. The atmosphere was profoundly peaceful, and L reveled in it after the past hectic week. After he had begun to work on the second of Light's feet, the residual moisture that had been coalescing in his hair began to drip onto Light's feet. In the first true gesture of friendship since the end of the Yotsuba case, Light dried the tips of L's hair.

As L looked into his friend's eyes and saw the conflicting emotions so obviously present there, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the night Light had planned to kill him. This expected, but still crushing certainty hit him in a most profound manner, and L suddenly felt intensely sad. It had been the first time he had really had an urge to cry since his parents had died years ago. Evidently, some of this depression had expressed itself in some way, and Light was asking him what was the matter.

The question should have been, "what _isn't_ the matter?". First off, there was the fact that L's one and only friend was plotting to kill him. Secondly, L could very well die tonight. Thirdly, he had seen his friend for the first real, true time since the Yotsuba case, and it was probably the last time he would _ever_ see him. At a loss for words with which to answer Light's question, he opted for yet another quote from the Gospel of John.

L smiled sadly, and stated simply, "You'll understand soon."


End file.
